Eileen Reed - Ground Zero Part 31

"I've already called him," Jefferson said. "We're going to let him have the opportunity to take the credit for your brilliant a.n.a.lysis. If he chooses to try and nail you for going around the chain of command, he's going to bounce so far on his a.s.s you'll see skid marks on the pavement. Now, get over here, Miss Lucy. We've got a Situation."

"I'm on my way," she said, and hung up the phone just as Mills stormed into the office.

"What's the meaning of all this?" he squealed, his face mottled with red and white.

"The meaning is that you were wrong and I was right," Lucy said. "But you can still get the credit if you want."

Mills stood there like a fish on a dock, his mouth opening and closing, as Lucy gathered her purse and closed down her computer and contemplated the donuts. Finally she shrugged, closed the donut box, and tucked it under her arm.

"We need to go," she said to Mills. "Plan your revenge later. We need to get to the Pentagon."

Lucy found she regretted that remark very much, later on.

Oklahoma.

"The bus is here," said Gwen. Major Stillwell came awake with a start. His left foot was asleep and started tingling when he moved in the hard plastic chair. He groaned.

"Oh, thank G.o.d," said Richard. He was sitting rigidly in the bus station's hard, brightly colored chair, his eyes locked on the big blue and white form of the bus. Three other sleepy pa.s.sengers stirred in the tiny waiting room of the gas station that served as a bus stop.

"What time is it?" Stillwell asked.

"Two o'clock," Richard said.

"I was almost willing to fly that Chinook out of that cornfield," Gwen said grimly.

"I thought about it," Richard said to her.

"You're a fruitcake," she said, which puzzled Stillwell.

The bus was mostly empty. Everyone on board seemed to be asleep. Stillwell felt sweaty and rank in the close confines of the bus, but he realized everyone else smelled that way too. He took a seat, and Gwen and Richard sat together on the seat across from him.

"See, we're safe now, you big baby," Gwen said as they pulled away from the station. "We'll be in Oklahoma City in a couple of hours and home by tomorrow night, I bet."

"I want a shower," Stillwell said. "And some sleep in a real bed."

"I'm just glad we made it out," Richard said. He did look better. The color was beginning to return to his face.

"What's the deal?" Stillwell said.

"Too many scary stories when he was a kid," Gwen said. Richard looked out the window as though he were annoyed, but Stillwell could see the beginnings of a grin.

"There was a movie called Children of the Corn, from a Stephen King story," Gwen said.

"Oh, yeah, I caught that on the late night a long time ago. It was pretty good," Stillwell said.

"I hate cornfields. Always have. I've always thought there was something in there, when I was growing up in Kansas. Then I saw this movie. So here we go, cras.h.i.+ng in a cornfield. Then we have to sit in a little redneck town all day," Richard said.

"Richard was waiting for the natives to come swarming out and sacrifice us to the corn," Gwen said.

"Well, I would have made it," Richard said. "I would have given them you to sacrifice, and saved my own a.s.s."

They laughed together, and Stillwell found himself laughing too. He was finally moving again. It was too bad that he was going to be late to investigate the case at Schriever, but at least he was alive. Tomorrow would be soon enough. Stillwell laid his head back in the bus seat and tried to find a comfortable position so he could get some sleep.

Colorado Springs.

Halfway through the night Eileen woke Joe by tugging at his arm, trying to get him to stand up.

"We're going to the bedroom," she said, getting her shoulder under his arm.

"What?" Tanner said sleepily.

"Bedroom," she said. His body, naked, shone in the darkness. "We're going to sleep in a bed. You're crus.h.i.+ng me on this couch. Come on now, it's just down the hall."

Joe didn't resist. He was still mostly asleep. He let her lead him to the bedroom. The sheets were wonderfully cool and smooth, and the comforter she pulled over him was soft and warm.

Eileen hurried quickly to the living room. She fetched her gun and their clothing and set her holster by the bed, dumping their clothes by the door. She crawled in and curled her body up against him. He sleepily put his arm around her. She felt a vast sense of peace. She slept.

Turtkul, Uzbekistan.

"They will rescue us," Anna whispered confidently. She held her youngest, who was seven and usually unwilling to submit to baby treatment, firmly against her bosom. He was sleeping, mouth open, eyelashes fanned against his perfect rounded cheek. Salt tears had dried in tiny streaks from his eyes. He snored.

"We can survive only three or four days," Ilina whispered.

"That will be more than enough," Anna soothed. "You brought plenty of food. We are safe, Ilina. Do not worry."

Anna, though, was worried, and deeply. What she knew, and hoped the murderous terrorists would not figure out, was that missile silo number six was capped by a concrete cover that could be blown off, just like every other silo with a nuclear warhead within. Blow the cover off and the women and children would be like mice at the bottom of a barrel. If the terrorists figured this out... Anna shook her head and stroked her sleeping son, and made a small offering to the G.o.d she'd been taught all her life did not exist.

"Please, G.o.d," she said to herself. "Please, G.o.d. Don't let them be as smart as me." She looked upward into the darkness at the top of the silo, and she prayed.

30.

Colorado Springs.

"I shall fix you French toast," Joe whispered to Eileen. She woke abruptly and for a moment didn't know where she was. Joe was on his side next to her, his chin in his hand, looking into her eyes exactly like her cat Betty liked to do.

"Good morning?" he said, and there was an awkward silence for a moment.

"Good morning? Good morning!" Eileen said, recovering herself. She put her arms around Joe and hugged him hard. He rolled over in the bed until she was underneath him.

"When I woke I thought it was another of those dreams I've been having since I met you," he said solemnly as she started to laugh.

"I thought Betty had figured out how to open the cat-food cans and had gotten huge."

"I guess I am huge," Joe said with a smirk.

"You're gigantic ... for a cat," Eileen said. He started kissing her.

"My mouth tastes terrible. But I can't stop."

"I'm going to fix you breakfast," he said again, laughing, but his arms were around her neck and he was kissing her.

"Later," she said.

Denver Animal Shelter.

The dark-haired girl, Debbie, hung up a tag on Fancy's door when she fed the little spaniel that morning. She hosed out Fancy's kennel and patted the dog, and moved down the line to the next kennel. Fancy's time was going to ran out the next day.

Colorado Springs.

"I might have something," Dave Rosen said to Eileen. She wasn't late, but he was there before she walked into the office. Was he always early? She'd never noticed before.

"On the Schriever case? What is it?" Eileen was heading for her desk but changed direction. There was a purse on Rosen's desk.

"This is Terry Guzman's purse," Rosen said. "I realized when I was going over the autopsy report that she didn't have a purse."

"I missed that," Eileen said, and touched the edge of the leather bag with her finger. She wanted to s.n.a.t.c.h it off the surface of the desk, but this was Rosen's find. "Have you opened it?"

"It just got here," Rosen said. "She left it at her desk. n.o.body touched her desk and n.o.body asked about a purse, so it wasn't turned in until the Game Director found it yesterday. He found it in her desk; they were boxing up her stuff. He sent it in."

"At your request, you mean. Stop teasing me, dammit, open it," Eileen said. Rosen smiled. He opened up the top and carefully shook out the contents onto the desk.

On the desk was lipstick, a checkbook, a comb, a small bottle of hairspray, a nail file, a bankbook, a coin purse, a pink oval case ("birth control pills," Eileen said to Rosen), a folding toothbrush in a clear case, a traveler's tube of toothpaste, a vial of perfume, an ancient granola bar, and a set of car keys.

Eileen felt a deep sadness when she saw the pitiful contents of Terry's bag. These were the private items of a woman's life, spread out for inspection.

There was so much happiness in her life this morning, she couldn't feel bad toward anyone. Everyone should have a fresh chance at life. Everyone should have the chance to feel like she did today. She thought guiltily that her mood must show. After the glorious morning lovemaking, Joe fixed Eileen French toast that was crisp and tasty. And coffee. Joe was a coffee drinker. His coffee was strong and good, just like him, she thought in amus.e.m.e.nt. Her brain was temporarily on vacation, obviously. She looked down at the desk.

"Let me see the checkbook," she said. Rosen handed her the book and then took up the bag and hefted it, trying to see if the weight was wrong. If there was an unexplained heaviness, there might be a hidden pocket or two. Purses often had little compartments that were easy to miss.

Eileen started looking through the check register. There were the usual utilities, car payment, ATM withdrawals. There was the monthly deposit of her paycheck, an amount that made Eileen draw in a deep breath. Did they really pay engineers that much? She remembered the huge and costly machines in the Gaming Center. Evidently the engineers were worth that kind of money. Eileen flipped through the checks and felt an unexpected hardness at the back of the checkbook.

"What's this?"

Rosen peered over Eileen's arm as she looked through the checkbook. She finally found the hidden compartment and pulled out a slim blue bankbook.

"She had two savings accounts?" Rosen asked. "Hey, now."

Eileen opened the savings account book and saw the name.

"Teresa James."

"That was the last name of her first husband, right?" Rosen said.

Eileen nodded. She pointed silently to the listing of deposits.

"My G.o.d," Rosen said. "Fourteen thousand dollars. Twelve thousand dollars. Fifteen thousand dollars. Where was she getting the money?"

"What did she have worth selling?" Eileen asked wearily. The suns.h.i.+ne had abruptly gone out of her day. The moment she'd seen the first amount she realized what Terry Guzman was doing to earn it.

"Secret doc.u.ments," Rosen said. His face was shuttered, but his hands were clenched on the tabletop in excitement.

"Surely," Eileen said. Her fingers felt numb. This was it. This had to be it. All the trails led here. "She screwed everyone she could. Figuratively as well as literally. She tried to find everyone's proudest point and make it dirty. Look," she said, ticking the names with her fingers. "There's 'Berto. He was proud of his beliefs, his religion. There's Doug. He loved his wife, his new little girl."

"Procell had to work nights and couldn't see them," Rosen said. "And 'Berto, she made him guilty by sleeping with him. What about Joe? And Sharon?"

"Joe lost Sully. Terry destroyed him without even setting him up," Eileen said grimly. "And she got rid of Sully permanently, even if it was an accident. Sharon loves her kids. Terry was trying to get Sharon switched to a lower-paying position so Sharon would have to take her kids out of private school."

"Nelson?"

"I don't know. And Lowell? Did he know about this?"

"What about Art? Did she try anything on Art?"